


All I Really Need to Know, I Learned in Kindergarten

by Nicnac



Category: Smallville
Genre: Family, Gen, Humor, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-11-18 23:08:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicnac/pseuds/Nicnac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lex has a little problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Clark, We Have a Problem

**Author's Note:**

> Similar sort of slightly AU for season 10 (and completely ignores the comics) as my last fic. Clark and Lois broke up rather than getting engaged, Conner and Clark lived on the farm together starting in 10x16 "Scion," but a few years have passed since then and they now have an apartment in Metropolis. Also the neurotoxin didn't take or they found a cure or whatever, point is Lex has his memories.

“I think it’s probably magic,” Clark said after finishing his inspection of Lex.

“What makes you say that?” asked Lex, clearly expecting some sort of in-depth explanation of why Clark thought Lex’s current predicament  was caused by magic, rather than some meta-human power or mad science or kryptonite or any of the number of other things that could possibly go wrong in their lives.

Clark shrugged. “Just a hunch.” A really good hunch, because Clark has had a lot of experience in these kinds of things in his time as Superman and has gotten pretty good at feeling them out, but still just a hunch.

Lex glared, clearly less than pleased with that answer, but unless he had more information that he wasn’t sharing, that was the best Clark could do. Of course, it wouldn’t make sense if he were hiding things, since _Lex_ was the one that had called _Clark_ at 5:30 in the morning and then spent half an hour convincing Clark that yes, he really was in trouble and wanted his archnemesis’s help, and no, this wasn’t a trap, but then Lex had never had any problem eschewing the sensible and logical route if he was feeling stubborn about something.

“Look,” Clark said, “do you want my help or not?”

Lex glared at Clark for a moment longer to make some point that Clark completely missed, then held his arms up in silent, yet petulant agreement.

Fighting a grin, Clark grabbed Lex, and balanced the slightly chubby and completely adorable five year old on his hip before flying the both of them back to his apartment.


	2. Conner, Take One

Once they got back to the apartment, Clark called up Zatanna to see if she could come help him out with his, ahem, “little” problem, or at the very least confirm if it was in fact magical in origin or not. Zatanna said she was in the middle of some magic thing or other, she didn’t bother to explain and Clark didn’t ask when he knew he wouldn’t understand anyway, and tried to put him off until next week, but with some pleading and an agreement that he wouldn’t kick up a fuss if she could do anything to actually solve the problem until after she was done with her other business, he got her to promise she would stop by around five that evening.

After he hung up with her, he called in sick to work. Lex was refusing to go out in public , or anywhere at all really, until he was his proper age again and Clark couldn’t very well leave a five year old or Lex alone in his apartment unsupervised, so a five year old Lex was right out. Lex gave Clark a look that made it pretty clear that he didn’t think Clark’s lying had improved any over the years, but Perry believed him, so Clark just ignored Lex and his judgmental looks.

While Clark was on the phone, Lex took advantage of the opportunity to inspect every last thing in Clark’s apartment… that he could reach. Clark knew he should probably be mad at the massive invasion of privacy, but Lex dragging the kitchen chair across the floor so he could see up on the counter was just too cute. Clark kind of wanted to hug him or pat him on the head, though somehow Clark doubted that would go over well.

After he was finished on the phone, Clark checked the clock and decided there was enough time to make a full breakfast. So he put some bread in the toaster – the toast always burned when he tried to make it with heat vision – and threw some eggs and bacon on the stove. Clark fell into the easy and well-practiced rhythm of cooking, which allowed him to keep half an eye on Lex. Lex had vacated the kitchen with an offend glare when Clark had started on breakfast, as though he thought Clark’s cooking was a deliberate ploy to keep Lex from investigating his herbs and spices, and was now looking over Clark’s DVD collection like all of Clark’s secrets could be found within – it turned out that knowing the big secret had done very little to dim Lex’s desire to know everything there was to possible know about Clark Kent. That was why, that one paranoia and Brainiac-possessed-Kara induced incident that kicked off what Clark likes to privately think of as Lex’s legitimately crazy year (as opposed to his psuedo-crazy year, when Lex’s psychosis had actually been a drug induced ploy by Lionel) aside, Clark has never been worried about Lex actually trying to kill him. Because how could Lex possibly learn anything new about Clark if Clark was dead?

Fortunately for Clark’s continued delusions of the privacy of his own home, after a few minutes the smell of breakfast and an empty stomach proved a stronger lure for Lex, or at least Lex contending with the needs of a child’s body, than the prospect of continuing to examine every last inch of the apartment. So, Lex abandoned his persual of the various item spread out across the coffee table, and sat down at the kitchen table, looking as imperious as he ever had. The effect was a bit ruined by the way his feet were kicking back and forth in the air though.

A few minutes more, and the food was finished. Clark divided it up into two large portions and one small one and set the plates on the table, the small one in front of Lex. Almost on cue, Conner emerged from his room, fully dressed for school and with his backpack strapped over one shoulder.

“Morning Dad, thanks for cooking breakfast.” And without further preamble, or even bothering to sit down, he began shoveling the food into his mouth at super-speed.

Clark was used to such displays, Conner was even more perpetually late than Clark had been at his age, and just calmly took his seat and ate at normal speeds. Lex, however, started watching Conner’s spectacle with the sort of disgusted fascination that usually was reserved for people eating live bugs on reality TV. Of course, since Conner was eating at super-speed that meant it was over in a few seconds, and shortly Lex was looking at a completely empty place while Conner was at the sink rinsing off his dish. A few more seconds, likely so he could process what he had just seen and Lex turned to Clark to ask, “You actually let him eat like that?”

Clark was about to explain that he’d rather have Conner eat at super-speed than skip breakfast, and most mornings it really did end up coming down to one or the other, but he was interrupted when Conner actually paused in this whirlwind of grabbing homework and various textbooks from around the room and seemed to notice for the first time the presence of someone else in the room. “Who’s that?”

“It’s Lex,” Clark answered. “Something happened and now he’s five again.”

Conner nodded. “Makes sense.” It probably said something, something not good, about their lives that it was more likely that their breakfast guest was Clark’s de-aged arch-nemesis than a normal five year old, albeit a bald one with blue eyes that were far to piercing for anyone without x-ray vision, but Clark was pretty used to it by now. “So what happened,” Conner asked, “magic spell?”

“We don’t know, but yeah, I think so. Zatanna is stopping by later to have a look,” said Clark.

“Cool,” Conner said, and then he was off again, stuffing things in his backpack at speeds that couldn’t possibly be good for them.

Clark looked over at Lex to apologize for basically talking about him like he wasn’t there, but Lex appeared not to have noticed, completely captivated by the way Conner’s things slowly disappeared from around the room. It occurred to Clark that, for all that Lex was aware of the existence of people with powers, and had been for a long time, and regualry interacted with a fair number of those people, he probably hadn’t ever seen them used in such a casual and mundane way. Plus Clark rather suspect the whole being five thing was affecting Lex mentally more than he wanted to admit.

“By the way,” Conner said, suddenly standing with his hand on the front door. “Robin texted and Batman has some stuff he needs him to do today.” There was only about a 30% chance that Lex hadn’t already figured out Bruce and Tim’s identities, but Clark appreciated Conner’s discretion. “So the team’s going to meet tomorrow instead.”

“Sounds good,” said Clark. “I’m going to be home all day, so I’ll see you when you get out of school.”

“Okay, bye, Dad. Love you. Bye, Other Dad.”

Clark was able to shout out a quick “love you too,” and then Conner was gone on his way to school.

Lex blinked a few times. “What just happened, and why the hell did your clone-son just call me Other Dad?”


	3. And Male Seahorses Can Get Pregnant (What's Your Point?)

“That," Clark said in answer to Lex's question, "would be Conner’s morning routine; I’ve never actually seen him wake up more than seven minutes before he has to leave for school. And he called you ‘Other Dad’ because he apparently he doesn’t see a complete lack of involvement in his life as precluding a paternal relationship.” Clark tried not to sound too bitter about that. It’s not like Clark could reasonably expect Lex to want to play co-father to the clone he had been planning on cutting up for body parts, but… he kind of had anyway.

“Paternal relationship? What are you talking about?”

“The fact that Conner is our son?” Clark said a little uncertainly. It seemed pretty straight forward to him.

“ _Our_ son? Clark, we’ve never even had sex. I would have definitely remembered that,” said Lex.

Clark flushed bright red and started to stutter, because now he was picturing having sex with Lex which was just _wrong_ and definitely not something Clark had ever pictured before, no sir. “What does that have to do with anything?” he finally managed to ask.

Lex gave Clark a sardonic look, which was singularly strange on the face of a five year old face. “Well, when a mommy and daddy love each other very much…”

“I know where babies come from, I’m not a little kid. Unlike some people I could name,” said Clark, unable to resist. Besides, Lex had totally started it. “And how is that even relevant? We’re both guys for a start.”

“I’m a guy,” Lex agreed. “And you have the physical appearance of a human male, but that doesn’t prove anything. For all I know, that’s what all Kryptonian females look like.”

“What? That’s ridiculous! You’ve met Kara; that’s what a female Kryptonian looks like. And I can’t be a girl, I have a cock!” Normally Clark would be blushing just trying to say something like that – twenty-seven and he was still worried his mom would appear out of nowhere to wash his mouth out with soap – but it turned out that when someone was literally questioning your manhood, such petty embarrassments fall by the wayside.

“So do female spotted hyenas,” said Lex, completely unperturbed. “Technically it’s a pseudo-penis, but it’s still used for reproduction, so same basic principle. As for Kara, it’s possible, at least to the extent of my knowledge, that ‘she’ is actually a male of your species. Granted, it’s unlikely that Kryptonian males would look identical to human females and vice versa, but not anymore unlikely than aliens appearing physiologically indistinct from humans in the first place. Or, it’s possible that the physical differences between the two of you are related to something completely different and have nothing to do with gender. And this is all assuming that Kryptonians even _have_ male-female analogs, rather than a single gender, or even three or more. Really, we can’t be sure that you are, in fact, a guy without some x-rays or MRI’s and samples of your reproductive cells. And Kara’s as well of course, for comparison. “

Clark listened as Lex took one of the few staples of his identity that he _hadn’t_ questioned with the “you’re actually an alien” revelation and dissected it into little tiny pieces. It was a horrifying experience.

“Look,” Clark finally said, interrupting Lex’s musings about the relative size and longevity of gametes, “none of this even matters anyway, since there was no sex involved in Conner’s creation. No sex.” Clark wanted to be absolutely clear on that point. “He was made in a lab.”

“I actually knew that,” said Lex. “I just don’t understand how I come into this. Unless you think I’m the one who cloned you?”

“What?” What in the world was Lex talking about?

“I can see how you might consider me as sort of another parent for Conner in that case,” Lex continued, steam-rolling right over Clark. “But I wasn’t the one who did it. Personally I suspect Lionel or Tess; they both had something of an unhealthy obsession with you.”

Okay, so there were probably more important questions that Clark should be asking at the moment, like had someone hit Lex on the head recently which was making him speak nonsense (like the part where he insinuated that Clark wasn’t a guy, because that was not true _at all_ ), but there’s no way Clark could let that one go.

“Ah yes, _Lionel and Tess_ had an unhealthy obsession with me. Because I distinctly remember _them_ building a room all about me, complete with creepy blue lighting.”

Lex crossed his arms and scowled. Clark, quite magnanimously he thought, refrained from mentioning how that made Lex look like an angry kitten. “I told you that room was about me.” He paused. “Maybe all those giant pictures were a bit excessive.”

“You think?” Clark said dryly.

“Regardless, I’m not the one who cloned you,” Lex said, as though that settled it.

“Of course you didn’t clone me, nobody cloned me. You cloned yourself and added my DNA,” Clark corrected.

“No,” Lex said, in flat denial of Clark’s statement. “You’ve gone on the record, _repeatedly,_ as saying that Superboy is a clone of Superman.” Well yeah, what was Clark supposed to say “Oh, yeah, he’s my son. Who’s his mother, you ask? Actually, he doesn’t have a mother; he has two fathers, myself and Lex Luthor.” Because that would go over well. It’s not like Clark actually thought Lex would believe the lie, not when he was the one who had made all those clones, including Conner, in the first place. “And why would I clone myself anyway? That’s just asking for trouble.”

Wait, what?

“You cloned yourself after that thing at in the Artic so you could use their bodies to fix yours,” Clark said, somewhat tentatively because Lex was looking really confused – and Clark was starting to appreciate Lex being five; it made his face much easier to read.

“And what happens when one of my clones decides that he would be better at living my life than I am? I would not be stupid enough to make clones of myself; give me a little credit,” said Lex. “I did start a project to clone body _parts_ to replace the ones irreparably damaged or lost due to hypothermia, but not much was accomplished before I was killed. I’ve check the records since I came back and they’ve all been erased, so I can only presume that it was shut down after I died.”

That… could actually make sense. Clark had assumed that Lex had set up the whole clone thing, including Conner, _before_ he had died, but Lex _did_ have a habit of hiring scientists that ended up going psycho. It was possible that the clone chop shop style Frankenstein experiments and the tests in interspecies genetic compatibility hadn’t started until _after_ Lex died. At any rate it couldn’t hurt to tell him about it, either Lex already knew, or he didn’t know, in which case Clark should have told him a long time ago.

“Okay,” said Clark. “Well, there was this facility full of clones of you. One of them escaped and um… tried to convince everyone he was you.” There was no way Lex could be faking that smug of an ‘I told you so’ look; he must have been telling the truth about not knowing anything about the clones of himself. Oops? “He burned the whole place down before he left, and then he died shortly afterward because the sped up aging was making him unstable or something. Only one other clone survived and at first he thought he was you and was aging too fast too. Then out of nowhere he started forgetting all the things he had remembered about your life and ever thinking he was you, and his aging slowed to a normal rate at about the same time. Tess’s people looked at his DNA and it turned out some of his genetic material came from me. And that was Conner.”

“What,” said Lex.

“Basically, we have sort of have a teenaged son together. Um… surprise?”

From the look on Lex’s face, Clark’s invulnerability and Lex’s extremely short reach at the moment were the only things saving Clark from getting punched in the face right now.

Yeah, he probably deserved that.


	4. Maybe Just a Little Rest for the Wicked

Lex had apparently decided that the best way to express his displeasure with Clark was to give him the cold shoulder. That was a little strange – or possibly a sign that Lex was _beyond_ pissed – because an angry Lex usually lashed out, with words or lasers or sometimes (often) both, not fumed like an eighth grade girl whose crush had asked her best friend to the dance. The stranger thing, though, was that it was working. Normally Clark would _pay_ to get Lex to stop talking and now all he wanted was for Lex to make some sort of disparaging comment about Clark’s tendency toward keeping secrets. Plus, every time Lex looked up from his food to throw Clark that angry kitten look, it made Clark feel even guiltier than Lana used to when she would make teary-eyed speeches about the importance of openness and honesty in a relationship.

Clearly, Lex was an evil genius.

“I really thought you knew!” Clark exclaimed when he couldn’t take the silence any longer.

“I’m sure you did,” Lex answered, voice dripping with doubt.

“I did,” Clark insisted. “And I’m sorry I kept this from you, even if it was totally an accident and not my fault.”

This time the glare Lex fixed Clark with was a little less pissed off kitten, and a lot more like something that would make the Grim Reaper freeze in his tracks (which, if literally true, would explain a lot about Lex’s continued survival).

Clark shut up.

The rest of the meal was accomplished in silence. When Lex finished he got out of his chair and, rather than continuing his inspection of Clark’s apartment, he sat on the couch and turned on CNN. Clark was fairly certain that there was an insult implied in that, though only Lex could think _not_ completely invading someone’s privacy was an insult.

Clark closed his eyes for a few seconds, then grabbed both his and Lex’s plates and went to wash the dishes. Soon Clark fell into the easy rhythm of cleaning and his mind was free to wander.

Unsurprisingly, his mind didn’t seem inclined to wander much farther than the angry pseudo-five year old on his couch. Clark got why Lex was upset, he could only imagine how he would feel if Conner had been kept from him for two years. But the more Clark thought about it, the more it seemed like Lex was overreacting, at least with regards to his anger directed specifically at Clark. The whole thing really was just an unfortunate – tragic even – misunderstanding. It wasn’t like Clark had been deliberately trying to keep Conner from Lex, and if Lex thought about the conversation they had just had for two seconds, he would know that.

Clark dried off the last dish and put it away before sighing to himself. Alright, once more into the fray.

“Lex?” he said, but there was no response from his irate guest.

“Lex, can we please talk about this?” Still no response.

Clark ran a hand through his hair and approached the couch. “Look, you have every right to be upset, but ignoring me isn’t going to solve anything, especially since I really didn’t intend for this to happen. When Conner gets home we can talk-”

Clark cut off abruptly when he rounded the couch and caught sight of Lex. Sometime in the last ten minutes or so while Clark had been doing the dishes, Lex had curled up and fallen fast asleep. And, while awake five year old Lex was, despite an uncommon adorableness in most of his actions, still Lex, asleep five year old Lex looked… sweet came to mind. As did innocent. For the first time since this whole thing had started, he really did seem like a little kid.

Suddenly, Clark was reminded of a conversation he had had with Lex, years and years ago. Lex had told Clark that he normally only slept for about five hours every night, maybe six or seven on a weekend. Clark, sixteen at the time and convinced that there was no such thing as too much sleep, had been horrified, but Lex had just laughed and explained it to him. What that explanation consisted of exactly, Clark couldn’t remember, but it was something about circadian rhythms, and how sleep needs differed from age group to age group and person to person, and probably something about Greco-Roman history too. The point was, last night Lex had probably gone to sleep and set his alarm to ensure an adequate amount of sleep for an adult Lex, which was significantly less than a child Lex would need.

No wonder he had been so pissy.

For a moment Clark was struck with indecision. On the one hand, he didn’t want to do anything to wake Lex or otherwise disturb his sleep. On the other, couches were supposed to be uncomfortable to sleep on, or at least so Clark had heard. And wouldn’t the overall quality of sleep be better for Lex if he were comfortable?

Clark waffled back and forth for a minute or so, before finally picking Lex up and cradling him in his arms. Clark carried Lex back to his room, walking as gently and quietly as possible. Carefully, he set Lex down on the bed and tucked him in, the way Clark had always kind of regretted he had never been able to do for Conner. Lex stirred a little and murmured sleepily for a moment, but then he buried his face in Clark’s pillow – Clark had to assure himself that there was no way that Lex would accidently suffocate himself while he was unconscious – and soon slipped back into a deep sleep. 


	5. I Prefer the Term "Father of My Child"

When Lex fell asleep it was closing in on eight o’clock in the morning. Clark, at something of loose ends since he had called in sick, dithered around the apartment, cleaning up a bit, before pulling out his laptop. If he did end up having to miss work all week to watch Lex, Perry would probably be less angry about it if Clark managed to get some work done at home.

At about ten, Clark started to expect Lex to wander out at any minute.

At around eleven, Clark was getting worried. He may have gone into the bedroom to make sure Lex really hadn’t suffocated himself in his sleep.

By one-thirty, Lex had slept straight through lunch and Clark decided to wake him up if he hadn’t gotten up by himself in another half an hour.

At exactly one-forty-seven, Lex stumbled out of Clark’s room, rubbing his eyes and tugging at his lime-green t-shirt. (Apparently Lex’s call to his staff for clothes for a five year old had been a little rushed and he forgot to make any specifications as to style. Clark considered it a great show of self-control that he hadn’t collapsed with laughter when he had seen Lex in jeans and with a giant gecko on his chest.)

“I can’t believe I fell asleep,” Lex said, coming to sit down on the kitchen chair across from Clark. “I haven’t done that since-”

“-you were a little kid,” Clark said pointedly.

“Actually, I was going to say since my rebellious teen years, but I see your point,” said Lex.

“Good,” Clark said. “Because I don’t want you to get stubborn about this and ignore your bodies needs just because they’re different than what you’re used to.” Which reminded Clark, Lex’s lunch was still sitting covered on the counter waiting for him to wake up.

“Your concern is touching. It’s very maternal of you,” Lex said a little too innocently.

“Or _pa-_ ternal,” Clark objected. He was a guy, dammit. “Also, I made you lunch,” said Clark placing the plate of food in front of Lex.

Lex didn’t say anything, just _looked_ at Clark with that stupid eyebrow raised like Clark was _so_ amusing or something. Clark glowered at him. Dads could totally make lunches too!

Eventually Lex rolled his eyes at Clark and turned back to his meal. “Whichever you prefer, I’m sure. But it’s a little early for lunch, isn’t it? We just had breakfast.”

“It’s two o’clock,” Clark told him. “You’ve been asleep for six hours.”

Lex’s jaw didn’t drop, but it kind of looked like I wanted to. “There is no way I slept that long,” Lex said. 

“Kids your age – your physical age, I mean, need an average of ten to thirteen hours of sleep a day. I googled it at around hour four of your nap,” Clark explained.

Lex looked down at himself as though his body was a horrible, horrible traitor and he would extract vengeance, just as soon as he figured out how to do so without also hurting himself. “How am I supposed to get anything done if I have to sleep for half the day?”

“I was kind of under the impression you weren’t planning on doing _anything_ besides hide in my apartment until your body was back to normal. You were pretty insistent about not wanting anyone to see you like this.” Though insistent was probably putting it lightly.

“It’s called working from home,” Lex said dryly, clearly not happy with the implication that _Lex Luthor_ would hide from anything. “Or my baby daddy’s home as the case may be.”

Clark would have thought that Kryptonians were incapable of choking, much less choking on nothing. He would have been wrong. “What?”

“You are my child’s other father, correct? Unless you changed your mind about wanting to be a mother?”

“No! Not that – I just…” God. Clark was _Lex Luthor’s_ baby daddy. And Lex Luthor was _his_ baby daddy. Clark groaned. “My life is so messed up.”

Lex pressed his lips together in a tight smile. “Believe me, I can sympathize. Now, speaking of Conner,” Lex said, his tone making it clear that he had just been waiting for a chance to bring the topic it up. “While I respect that you have been living together just the two of you for a while now, he’s my son as well, and he’s going to be spending time with me too from now on.” Lex crossed his arms and looked determined.

“Of course he is!” Clark exclaimed. “The only reason you haven’t before now is I was waiting for you to express an interest in it.”

Lex blinked. “Just like that?”

“I’m not going to keep you from your own kid, Lex,” Clark said, a little bit offended. “Geez, what were you expecting?”

“To have to threaten to sue Superman for joint custody of Superboy” – which threw Clark off a bit until he remembered paternity test, DNA, aliens, right – “because you were going to refuse to let me see Conner out of fear I might corrupt him.”

Clark tried not to laugh. And he may have even mostly sort of succeeded somewhat. Well, he snorted.

“You don’t believe I would do it?” Lex asked, affronted.

“No, it’s not that,” Clark said. Lex’s lawyers had a fair amount of practice with paternity suits after all. Granted, until now they had always been proving that Lex was _not_ the father of the child in question, but still. “It’s just the idea of you corrupting Conner is… unlikely. Conner’s – I don’t want to call him stubborn, fiercely independent, maybe. He’ll listen to and respect other people’s opinions, but no one is going to make up his mind but him. You’d have better luck corrupting me, honestly.”

“I didn’t know you were capable of being corrupted,” said Lex, and Clark wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic or not.

“Clearly you’ve never met Clark Luthor. And hopefully you never will,” Clark said, deciding to answer as though Lex were being serious.

“Clark Luthor?” Lex repeated.

“Long story, basically there’s an alternate universe where I was raised by Lionel.” That had been a horrible experience. Also the whole universe had had a weird gray tinge to it.

Lex actually shuddered a little bit. “But we’re getting off topic,” he said. It wasn’t the smoothest changing of subjects Clark had ever heard, but he could forgive Lex for that one. Thinking about Clark Luthor freaked Clark out too. “How do we want to divvy up Conner’s time?”

“Somewhat equitably I would assume, but we should probably talk to Conner first and get his opinion too,” Clark said.

Lex nodded. “That sounds fair. I’m glad we got this sorted out.” Then he turned away and began inspecting his sandwich as though not convinced it was fit for human consumption.

The silence that stretched on after Lex’s last comment wasn’t uncomfortable exactly, but it seemed empty somehow. “So, Lex,” Clark said, casting about for a topic that wouldn’t result in a screaming fight, “can I ask you a question?” Lex looked at him suspiciously, but gestured for Clark to continue. “Have you ever stared down the Grim Reaper?"


	6. Conner, Take Two

Lex’s response to Clark’s question was an immediate denial that such an entity as the Grim Reaper even existed. Clark was in turn a bit disbelieving of Lex’s disbelief, given that in the past couple of years they had not only met tons of magic users, including Mordred and Morgana from Arthurian legend, they had also encountered members of the Greek pantheon, a dragon from another dimension, and what Lex still swore was a mutated horse, even though they both knew it was totally a unicorn. From there they got into a discussion that was achingly familiar of years gone by, in tone if not in content, about the nature of skepticism and when it went from being logical and rational to ridiculous and arbitrary. Of course, then Clark had to mention the time he met Santa Claus and they went right back to bickering.

In the middle of that, the door opened and Conner walked in. “Hey Dads, I’m back.”

“Conner, tell Lex that I really did meet Santa,” Clark said.

“You did not meet Santa; he’s not real!” Lex objected.

“Well, I wasn’t there when it happened, but if Dad said he met Santa Claus, then he really did meet Santa Claus,” Conner said loyally because he was the Best Son Ever.

“I’ll grant you he thinks he met Santa, but from his story it’s clear that who he actually met was a very confused and possibly deranged magic user,” Lex said in his ‘reasonable’ tone.

“But who’s to say the ‘real’ Santa that all the stories are based on _isn’t_ a long-lived very confused and possibly deranged magic user?” Conner pointed out.

Lex opened his mouth. Closed it again. Finally said, “I suppose you might have a point.”

Clark beamed at Conner. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem,” Conner said with a shrug. “So, I’ll just leave you guys to it, then.”

“No wait a minute,” said Clark, holding up a hand to forestall Conner heading back to his room. “We have something we need to talk to you about.”

“You better let me handle it,” Lex interjected, “since you’ve proven yourself to be completely incompetent at handling the situation so far.” Which was a kind of mean way of putting it, but not a completely unwarranted one, Clark had to admit, so he frowned a little bit, but inclined his head in acknowledgement.

Conner looked between the two of them very quickly, then literally flung himself over the back of the couch, using a bit of hovering to clear it – Clark had considered asking him to stop doing that, but since he had ended up with so many weird hang-ups about his powers when he was younger, he hated discouraging Conner from using his – and settled in next to Lex. “What’s up, mini Dad?”

Lex scowled, which still looked completely adorable; Clark was going to miss the angry kitten look when Lex got big again. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t call me that.”

“Fair enough,” Conner agreed. “What should I call you? Papa? Father? Dad Two? Other Dad? Lex Dad? Mom?”

Clark tried to cover his laugh with a cough, but since he was a yellow sun powered Kryptonian who didn’t need to cough _ever_ it was probably less than convincing. The way Lex was glaring daggers at him pretty much confirmed it. “ _Not_ Mom,” he said decisively. “Any other one of those would be fine.”

Conner pursed his lips in thought for a minute before nodding and saying “Okay, Lex Dad, what’s up?”

Lex seemed to need a moment to consider where to start before he finally on asking, “How much do know about your origins?”

Mistake number one right there, but Lex wanted to handle this, so Clark was going to let him handle it.

Ten minutes later, Lex finally decided to cut into Conner’s explanation of advanced genetics and cloning techniques and the effects of Kryptonite on both, etc., etc. – and a good thing too, because they probably would have still been listening to Conner all night otherwise. “I think it’s probably safe to assume you know everything and just go from there,” said Lex.

Conner nodded, seeming not even slightly put off about being interrupted. “Pretty much.”

“I didn’t tell him right away that the two of you were related and it worked out pretty poorly, so I figured it would just be better to give him all the information he could stand… which turned out to be more than I could stand, actually,” Clark explained, and Conner nodded again.

“Well,” Lex said, “what Clark couldn’t have told you, since he himself didn’t know, is the project that created all my clones and yourself was never originally intended for that purpose. It was made to clone body parts to replace the ones I lost or was going to lose to hypothermia; the scientists in charge of the project apparently changed it after I died. Because of that, I didn’t find out until just this morning that the two of us are related to each other.”

“Clark Dad didn’t tell you either, huh?” Conner said sympathetically as he gave Clark a _look_ that had Clark wondering whether the term ‘Clark Dad’ was really just for clarification, or if it was supposed to express some sort of disapproval.

“He did not,” Lex agreed and now Clark was getting the _look_ in stereo. There really wasn’t any doubt that Lex and Conner were father and son.

“I already said I was sorry,” Clark objected. “To both of you. Multiple times.” Then because neither of them were letting up – though Conner, at least, was probably more messing with Clark than anything – Clark changed the subject. “Look, the point is Lex just found out that he’s your other parent, and now that he knows, he wants to spend time with you too.”

Lex started to say something that would undoubtedly be self-depreciating yet hopeful, and it was strange to think Clark could still read Lex’s face after all these years, especially since Clark wasn’t sure if he was able to in spite of the child’s body Lex was currently inhabiting, or because of it. Conner, however, either didn’t notice or just wasn’t as good at reading Lex as Clark was, and so he began talking before Lex could get a word out. “Well, I know Jenny in my math class stays with her dad on Wednesdays and every other weekend. So, we could just do that and just switch it up if it’s not working,” he suggested easily.

Lex looked – not gobsmacked, not even defenses-somewhat-lowered, trapped-in-the-body-of-a-five-year-old Lex could look gobsmacked, but he did look like he _would_ look gobsmacked if he were anyone but Lex Luthor. “Just like that?”

Conner regarded Lex with honest confusion and curiosity. “Was I supposed to object? Because I don’t have a problem with it, but I could probably pretend like I do if you wanted me too.”

“I don’t _want_ you to, I just…” Lex said, faltering. Clearly, even if Lex wasn’t Conner’s other father, Clark would still need to get the two of them to spend more time together, if just for the sheer ‘throwing Lex off his game’ potential. “Don’t the two of you have a problem with the vast majority of things I do in both my private and professional life because you think I’m sort of evil supervillain?” Lex finally demanded, once he gathered his bearings again.

“I don’t think you’re _evil_ ,” Conner protested, and for that matter neither did Clark. Not really. “I mean obviously you’re a supervillain, since you have basically set yourself up as Clark Dad’s archnemesis, which, keeping in mind he could reasonably be considered the most destructive force on Earth-“

“Hey!” Clark objected, but Conner just waved his protests off.

“You know it’s true, Dad. Anyways, I was saying, it’s actually a pretty bold choice, so I have to respect it at least a little bit. As far as having a problem with it… I guess I do somewhat, but I’m willing to live and let live as long as you don’t try to pressure me to follow in you footsteps or anything. I mean, I know I’m going to make some stupid life decisions at some point, because everyone does, but I’d at least like them to be my own decisions and not ones my Dad forced on me.”

“Stupid life decisions?” Lex echoed, sounding faintly offended.

Mistake number two. Because then Conner went into an impassioned speech about why exactly being a supervillain, as well as an im-/a- moral CEO was a stupid life decision, complete with examples of things Lex had actually done, all of which either worked out badly, or were going to end up working out badly, according to Conner at least.  And obviously Clark had been completely wrong about Lex being incapable of looking gobsmacked, because there it was, in the flesh on Clark’s couch.

Clark was never sure how he managed it later – he thought it might have involved a bit of superspeed – but somehow he made it into his room with the door closed before he burst into laughter.


	7. Sha-abra-ka-bibbidi-bobbidi-zam

The rest of the afternoon passed fairly uneventfully. Clark, once he had gotten control of his laughter – Lex was already probably going to come after him with lasers or something Lex he had had to ask Clark for _help_ , and there was no reason for Clark to make things worse for himself – set himself up in the living room with his laptop and the TV and pretended to work and half-watch some sitcom or other while he actually listened to Lex and Conner have a discussion on supervillainy and morality in general, Lex having apparently regained his composure while Clark had been otherwise indisposed. There were a few times when Clark wanted to jump in and add something, but Lex was bound to take anything Clark said as a personal attack – which it wouldn’t have been, but Clark couldn’t exactly _blame_ Lex for jumping to that conclusion – and shut down, which wouldn’t be fair to Conner, so Clark kept quiet.

Then around four some show that Conner wanted to watch came on, so Clark got booted off the TV, and Lex, having lost his conversation partner, decided to get some work done, so Clark got booted off his laptop too. Left at something of loose ends, Clark ran down to the grocery to get some food for dinner. He and Conner didn’t have guests over often, so, even if he and Lex weren’t exactly friends anymore, Clark still wanted to put together a reasonably nice meal. Especially seeing as Lex was Conner’s other dad, which meant he was family, and, okay, Clark had just freaked himself out again.

He had just gotten back from the store and was putting the food away until it was time to make dinner when Zatanna appeared just inside the front door with a loud CRACK. She said she did it on purpose for the drama of it, but Clark rather suspected was just the air being rapidly displaced by her sudden arrival. Though, she _was_ a magician, so she could probably _magically_ make it not make any noise if she wanted to, which meant maybe she really did do it on purpose for the drama. “Alright, Clark,” she said. “What’s the problem?”

“That,” Clark responded, inclining his head over to where Lex had gotten down off the couch and come around so he was facing Zatanna, poised with every bit of the confidence that he had as a full grown man. Clark couldn’t help but think it was too bad that it had taken Lex so long to find that confidence; if he had looked like he did now in his school years, it likely would have saved him a lot of teasing and bullying.

“What… is that Lex?” Zatanna asked, her voice verging up toward a squeal at the end. “He’s adorable!” She made as though to pinch his cheek, but Lex swatted her hand away.

“I’ll thank you not to touch me” Lex snapped.

“Yeah, Lex is still Lex,” Clark said. “He’s just… smaller.”

“Really?” Zatanna said, sounding absolutely fascinated. She crouched down so that she was eye level with Lex and looked at him intently for a few moments before rocking back on her heels and standing back up. “Do you know who did this?” she asked.

“Obviously not,” Lex retorted. “If I did, I’d be busy convincing him to remove the spell, not hiding out in my archnemesis’s apartment.” Clark winced a little at the appellation; he had thought they’d been kind of getting along better today. Still, he did prefer it to baby daddy.

“You do that and you’d be lucky to wind up as a cat,” Zatanna told him. “This guy clearly has no idea what doing; I’m pretty sure the spell he put on you was supposed to leave your body and memories intact while reverting your mental state to your teenage years.” This time _Lex_ was the one who winced, and Clark couldn’t blame him at all. The thought of Lex with all the power and resources he currently had at his fingertips, but with the recklessness and moral looseness of Lex as a teenager was… nothing short of terrifying really. “Honestly,” Zatanna continued, “’given the way he messed up this spell, you try to get him to undo it and he’d probably undo you right out of existence.”

Lex frowned. “That doesn’t sound consistent with how I would expect something like that to go wrong.”

“Oh, it’s definitely unusual, but what would have happened is...” Zatanna began before going to an in-depth explanation of magical technicalities that Clark didn’t follow a word of.

As she and Lex were talking, and Clark was pretending like he wasn’t totally lost, Conner sidled up to Clark. “Since when does Lex Dad know anything about magic?” he whispered.

“The safe bet is always to assume Lex knows everything about everything,” Clark whispered back. “And if he doesn’t know, then he will by next week.” Conner considered that for a moment and nodded thoughtfully. Then the two of them tuned back into Lex and Zatanna’s conversation and attempted to pretend like they understood… well, any of it really.

Lex made an assertion that was probably in some form of English, and Zatanna made an assenting noise and said, “That’s why it’s so important I find this guy and teach him.”

“Wait, you want to find the guy who put a curse on Lex so you can teach him how to do it better?” Clark asked. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Technically, it’s not a curse,” Lex corrected.

“Luckily,” Zatanna added. “Otherwise we’d probably have demons running around Metropolis right now. And that is exactly why this mystery magician needs to be taught. An untrained magician is infinitely more dangerous than a malevolent one that knows how to cast spells properly.”

Clark supposed he could see the logic in that, though he still didn’t like it. “We’ll keep a watch out for him then. And in the meantime can you change Lex back or not?” he asked.

“Oh that,” Zatanna said, as though she’d completely that was why she was here in the first place. It was possible she had. “Yeah, not a problem. Though I think he’s pretty cute like this.” Lex gave her a less than impressed look which she returned with a moue of disappointment. “Fine.” Then she said some gobbledygook that she swore had a simple, easy to distinguish pattern (one that she wouldn’t tell him, supposedly because it was more fun watching him trying to figure it out), but Clark was pretty sure it was actually just noises. The air shimmered or something for a moment and when it cleared, Lex… looked exactly the same.

“Uh, Zee,” Clark began uncertainly.

“Don’t worry,” Zatanna assured them, “he’ll be back to normal in six to twelve hours. Alright, I’ve got to run. See you later, Clark, Conner, Lex!” Then, after another nonsense word, there was a second CRACK and she was gone.

“So,” Conner said after a moment or two of silence, “What are we going to do for the next six to twelve hours?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, josephina_x that was a [shout out to you](http://archiveofourown.org/works/782775) in the middle there.


	8. The Domestic Habits of the (Debatably) Male Alien

“You’re going to do your homework for a start,” Clark told Conner, his voice taking on a firm, no-nonsense tone.

“But, Daaaad,” Conner whined back, and Clark couldn’t help but laugh a little to himself. He knew as well as Conner did that his pout was just as much for show as Clark’s affected stern attitude. Conner wasn’t necessarily one of those singularly strange children, or at least they seemed strange to Clark, that actually enjoyed doing their homework, but it wasn’t the chore for him that it was for most high school students. One of the perks of basically being a genius, especially one who didn’t have parents cautioning him to be careful not to do _too_ well, because most middle school students didn’t understand calculus at all, much less were able to do it in their head. Not that Clark necessarily blamed his parents for being overly cautious, but in retrospect it probably hadn’t been the best way to handle the situation. Besides which, Metropolis was much more forgiving of the casual sort of intellect Conner had been known to display than Smallville was.

“I could help,” Lex offered, apparently unaware Clark and Conner were putting on an act, and Clark didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth. Lex had always looked so _hurt_ when Clark turned down his myriad of offers of help or gifts in the past, and that had been when Lex was, more or less, a full grown man. Seeing that expression on the face of five year old Lex might be literally heart-breaking. (And yes, Clark did mean that _literally,_ because he still wasn’t too sure how Kryptonian physiology was going to react sometimes, and why take chances?)

“Oh,” Conner said, looking surprised and confused, until he saw the look that _Clark_ was giving _him_. “Sure, if you want. Thanks.” The two then retired to Conner’s bedroom, where they did homework at super-speed that was just slow enough not to rip the paper, snap the pencil, ruin the keyboard, or, on one occasion that Clark still didn’t fully understand, break the desk, and wait to give help that was likely going to ultimately prove unnecessary, respectively.

In the meanwhile, Clark decided to go ahead and get a start on dinner, and in a fortunate coincidence of timing, Conner finished his homework just as Clark was about to pull the chicken out of the oven (but before he actually had, which is how Clark knew Conner was actually finished and not using his super-hearing to listen for the oven door opening). The three of them sat down to dinner, Lex expressing some surprise at Clark’s ability to cook – apparently breakfast that morning and the sandwich that afternoon ‘didn’t count.’ Of course, after he had tried some, Lex had to concede that Clark did actually know his way around the kitchen, which Clark would have thought was self-evident given who his mother was. Martha Kent wasn’t about to let her baby go off into the world without being able to fend for himself food-wise.

Lex, who seemed to have decided his compliment of the meal was sufficient interaction with Clark for the evening, spent the rest of dinner solely focused on Conner, basically interrogating him about his school life. Conner put up with the whole thing with a good deal more grace than Clark would have at his age, which Clark was suitably impressed by. Though, given that Clark and Conner had both thought Lex was completely uninterested in his son, maybe it wasn’t so surprising that Conner was enjoying all the attention.

Lex and Conner still were deep in discussion about the upcoming poetry section in Conner’s English class – something that Lex could actually help with, since Conner liked poetry about as well as Clark did – by the time everyone had finished eating, so Clark played the good host and collected dishes from the table, put up the leftovers, and washed everything off before any of the food could set. Then when the two of them were still talking after he had finished all that, Clark began to feel a little neglected, so he went and turned on the TV, flipping it to the channel he had picked out for just this very purpose earlier.

“Eureka?” Conner cut himself off to ask, turning around and perking up a bit as he recognized the theme song.

“Syfy’s playing a marathon tonight,” Clark agreed with a grin.

“Nice,” Conner said, throwing himself over the couch again. “C’mon Lex Dad! This is a really good episode.”

“What exactly are we watching?” Lex asked, his voice betraying a hint of hesitance, despite the way he had gotten up from kitchen table and followed Conner to the couch.

“It’s a show about this town with all these geniuses living in it and they come up with all these crazy inventions that inevitably go wrong somehow,” Conner explained. “We, well mostly me, but Clark Dad too sometimes, like to point out all the ways the inventions don’t make scientific sense, and then we both like to talk about what cool things we’d do with them if they were real.”

Lex glanced over at Clark, his gaze deeply sardonic. “That sounds vaguely familiar.”

Clark shrugged. “That’s where I got the idea from originally. But Conner wouldn’t watch Star Trek.”

“The special effects suck,” agreed Conner sagely, and Lex looked completely dismayed, as though he were wondering how this could _possibly_ be his son.

“Eureka’s a pretty good show too,” Clark said quickly, hoping to forestall any lectures on why Star Trek was of the best quality programming and had, in fact, only improved with age. He’d gotten enough of that in high school, thank you. “You’ll like it.”

Lex settled back into the couch in a way that clearly broadcasted that _he_ would be the judge of that, but it was Clark’s opinion that ended up being vindicated. They were barely ten minutes into the first episode before they had fallen into the same sort of easy and comfortable conversation that Conner and Lex had been having earlier that day, or that Clark and Lex used to have years and years ago. But now it was all three of them, which just felt right in a way Clark couldn’t really qualify. Conner and Lex had a casual understanding of advanced scientific concepts that Clark couldn’t even hope to match, but Clark and Lex had the weight of years and experience, with each other and with the world, that Conner didn’t, and Lex, for all that he had played hero multiple times in the past, couldn’t quite appreciate the weight and responsibility that came with saving people every day, making it your job, the way Clark and Conner did. And somehow that all meshed together into this great _thing_ that Clark hadn’t even realized was missing until now. The time passed so quickly and smoothly that it wasn’t until Lex yawned hugely right in the middle of explaining why Carter’s solution to the last episode’s problems couldn’t have worked that Clark thought to check the time.

“Oh, wow, it’s already ten o’clock. Lex, you think you should maybe…” Clark trailed off, because him telling Lex that it was his bedtime would officially take things to a level of surreal that they as of yet hadn’t reached, and Clark really didn’t want them to have to either.

“It’s ten o’clock,” Lex repeated in a tone that clearly suggested that Clark had taken leave of his senses.

“We talked about this earlier,” Clark said chidingly, and yes, apparently it is going to get that surreal. “Ten is a lot later than most five year olds stay up” – when Clark had been that age it had still been _light_ out when he was sent to bed in the summer – “and you don’t want to overtax your body because you think you can get away with as little sleep as you usually do.”

Lex was obviously prepared to argue more, but as he opened his mouth to do so, a jaw-cracking yawn escaped instead, making it fairly evident that he was fighting something of a losing battle. Not that that had always stopped Lex in the past, but he must have been as tired as he seemed because he conceded with a faintly pissed, “Fine. Where am I sleeping?”

“Same bed as earlier. I’ll be careful not to wake you when I come in,” Clark said.

“We’re going to sleep in the same bed?” Lex asked, faint notes of almost horror in his voice.

“Umm, yeah?” Clark said. “We’ve only got the two beds and mine’s bigger than Conner’s” – plus Conner had a tendency to roll around and kick a lot in his sleep – “and the couch isn’t really long enough for either Conner or me to sleep on.”

Conner, who had been listening quietly up until that point, interrupted with a sigh. “Clark Dad, you know how we agreed I would tell you when you were acting weird?” Clark, for all that he was older and had more general life experience than Conner, still found himself tripping over some of the basics social interaction that Conner grasped with ease. Clark would write it off to Conner being half human to Clark’s whole alien, if it weren’t for Conner’s human half being Lex, who seemed to have just as much trouble with certain social mores as Clark did.

“I’m doing it now?” Clark guessed, and Conner nodded.

“Yup. It’s alright Lex Dad, you can sleep with me.”

Clark still didn’t get it what was weird about it really, and he knew that, logically, his way made the most sense, but Lex did look more comfortable with Conner’s suggestion, so Clark just let it go. “Alright then. Conner could you help Lex get what he needs, pajamas, an extra toothbrush, a towel if he wants to shower, whatever?”

“Sure thing,” Conner agreed, getting up and heading off toward the bathroom. “Follow me Lex Dad.”

Lex went to do just that, and had almost left the room before Clark remembered. “Good night Lex.”

Lex turned, gazed narrowed as though he suspected Clark of some ulterior motive, or at the very least sarcasm. But after a second or two of inspecting Clark’s guileless expression he relaxed, just a little bit. “Good night Clark.”


	9. We Help the... People Who Need Help

At first Clark wasn’t sure what had interrupted his sleep. He wasn’t the type to wake up in the middle of the night for no reason, his JL communicator wasn’t going off, and his super-hearing was filtered down to more or less normal human levels at the moment, meaning there were no catastrophes he had to attend to, nor were any of the people his subconscious automatically tuned into in any danger. He rolled over, going to get up and see if it was some sort of small thing wrong in the apartment that he was hearing, or otherwise sensing somehow, without really realizing it. But before he could even throw back the covers, he spotted the figure in the doorway. The frame of the person threw him off for a second; he (or possibly she) was short and stocky, making Clark think for a wild moment a dwarf had come to see him. Not that Clark had ever met a dwarf before, or had any proof that they existed even, but he wasn’t ready to discount anything at this point. Then the moment passed, as Clark registered who he was actually seeing, and suddenly it was really very desperately hard not to laugh.

Conner had, of course, told Clark that he had given Lex some of Clark’s spare clothes to wear to bed. Clark had understood the logic behind it too; according to Zatanna’s predictions, the spell on Lex should wear off sometime during the night while they were all asleep and if Lex were to be wearing five year old sized clothes when it happened and, to quote Conner, ‘hulk out’ of them, it would probably be pretty painful. Not to mention the part where Lex would then wake up naked, which would be awkward and uncomfortable for all involved. But if it was one thing to know something and another thing to understand it, then it was a whole other thing entirely to actually see Lex wearing a t-shirt that was about 50 sizes too big and boxers that were only held up by a well-placed rubber band and the sheer force of Lexian will. That explained the stocky dwarf appearance at least.

“Lex?” Clark said, hoping his tone only showed confusion at Lex’s presence in his doorway at… 3:17 am, and none of the amusement he was busy suppressing.

“Do you kick in your sleep?” Lex asked, which was really answer enough.

“I float sometimes,” Clark offered, though that had dropped off mostly once he had gotten control of the flying thing. He also, as he had discovered while living with Lana, used to be a sleep cuddler. But then Lois, who, when confronted with six foot plus of super strong Kryptonian trying to grab her in his sleep, had felt more squished than safe and secure, had trained that instinct out of him, so it didn’t seem worth mentioning. Lex gave a considering sort of nod in response and then walked over and climbed in Clark’s bed, making sure to lie down as far away from Clark as he could possibly get.

“Conner didn’t hurt you, did he?” Clark asked, the worry suddenly striking him. He didn’t _think_ Conner’s sleep kicks were super-powered sleep kicks, but it wasn’t as though Clark as often on the receiving end of them. And even if he were, Conner’s super-strength had yet to catch up with Clark’s invulnerability, so he wouldn’t be the best judge.

“I’m fine,” Lex said. “He was just making it impossible to sleep.”

“Good,” said Clark and, relieved, he rolled back over and went back to sleep.

Or, at least that was his plan, but a minute later Lex was foiling it – sort of an ironic role reversal really – when he spoke again. “Why are you helping me, Clark? You hate me.”

Clark turned to look at Lex, because having this conversation with his back to Lex would send all kinds of wrong messages. “I don’t hate you, Lex,” Clark said softly, trying to look Lex in the eye as he did so, but Lex, lying on his back staring intently at the ceiling, wasn’t exactly cooperating. “I’ve never hated you.” Sure, there had been times when Clark _wished_ he did, or when all the conflicting emotions he felt for Lex had jumbled up in a confused mess that probably seemed a lot like hate, especially from the outside, but it hadn’t ever actually crossed that line. And a good thing, because an emotional Clark tended to behave rashly, and he already had enough to regret as far as Lex was concerned.

“Fine, if you _never_ hated me,” Lex said, voice dripping with skepticism, and it wasn’t like Clark could blame him, “then why are you helping me _now_?”

“Because this is the first time since I was a teenager who was completely wrapped up in his own problems” – though, to be fair, some of those problems had genuinely been life or death kind of things… just not most of them – “that you’ve asked me.”

“So you were waiting for me to beg?” Lex said, his voice cold and not a little bit disgusted, though whether it was with himself or Clark, Clark couldn’t tell.

Clark sighed and wished, for just a second, he could reach over and give Lex a hug. Nearly thirty-five years old and Lionel five years in the grave (well, aside from that nasty business with the Mirror Box Earth Lionel, but _Lex_ had been dead when that had happened, so it totally didn’t count), and Lex was still assigning Lionel’s motives to everyone he met.

“Not beg, just ask,” Clark explained. “You can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped any more than you can save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. You’ll only wear yourself out trying.”

“But what about the people who don’t _realize_ they need to be saved?” Lex asked. Even from just his profile, Clark could see the gleam of conviction in Lex’s eyes, and somehow Clark didn’t think they were talking about just the two of them anymore. “Don’t you have an obligation to help people if the only reason they’re refusing is they don’t understand the long-term benefit to themselves?”

Clark stifled the urge to sigh again, because this? This is why it was so hard fighting with Lex. Everyone else Superman faced off against on any regular basis was in it for selfish reasons: ambition, greed, revenge, or even pure sadistic glee. But Lex, underneath all the amorality and the unethicalness and the zoning violations and all the other crap, really, truly, and genuinely did what he did because he wanted to help people. (Discounting for a minute all the supervillainy Lex got up to that Clark was 98.2% sure that Lex only did to piss Clark off. Especially since, after Lex and Conner’s discussion earlier, Clark was pretty confident that sort of behavior was going to drop off in about three or four months, far enough in the future that no one who was paying attention would ‘mistakenly’ attribute the change in Lex’s behavior to a teenager making him feel like an idiot in under an hour.)

“You can’t force people like that,” Clark said, before amending it to, “well you _can_ , but you shouldn’t and it rarely, if ever, is going to ultimately work out the way you want it to. You have to let them figure out from themselves that they need your help, or else use different methods they won’t object to.” And sometimes you had to back off altogether and let your son handle it because he’s clearly much better at it than you are.

“Different methods?” Lex said, sounding both intrigued and dismissive at the same time.

“Sometimes they won’t take the truck, so you have to give them the concert ticket instead,” said Clark with a wry grin, and he thought that possibly for a brief moment he might have seen Lex smile wistfully back. Or maybe not.

Clark opened his mouth to say more, so much more and sometimes it was all he could do not to fly to Lex’s penthouse and talk at him for hours as all the held back words bubbled up, but he stopped himself. Lex would come to this on his own, or not at all. “Get some sleep, Lex,” he said instead. “This will all make more sense in the morning.”

“ _This_ ,” Lex said, and the way he said it somehow held everything, the insanity of the past day, the past twelve years, the whole of their lives, within it, “is going to make sense in the morning?”

“Well, it hasn’t yet, but I keep hoping,” Clark said lightly. Lex made a noise that Clark choose to interpret as a chuckle, and Clark took that as his cue to go back to sleep.

He thought, as he was drifting on the edge of unconsciousness, he heard Lex whisper, “I don’t hate you either,” but he probably just dreamed it. 


	10. The End and the Beginning of a Beautiful... Well, They're Not Enemies Anymore at Least (Probably)

Clark woke up confused for the second time that day, this time overtaken by a weird sense of not quite déjà vu. There was someone else in bed with him. He knew this because his arm had reached over to touch them; it was the same sort of comforting point of contact that had been Clark and Lois’s compromise between Clark’s desire for casual physical closeness during the night and Lois’s desire to not feel crushed in her sleep. But Clark was pretty well familiar with Lois’s body, and the hip beneath his hand definitely wasn’t hers.

Slowly memories of his conversation with Lex late last night, or early this morning, depending on your perspective, trickled back in. But even that failed to illuminate Clark as to who was in his bed, because Clark’s foot bumping up against his mystery bed partner’s ankle proved that he –it felt like a guy hip at any rate – was just about as tall as Clark, much taller than Lex was trapped in his five year old body.

…Oh.

Clark opened his eyes (which, in all honesty, was probably what he should have done in the first place) and, sure enough, there was a full-grow Lex Luthor. The two of them had shifted some in their sleep, so now they were lying face-to-face, close enough that, had they been opened, Clark likely could have counted the lines in Lex’s eyes. It was, without a doubt, the most intimate feeling moment that Clark had experienced in a long time, since before he and Lois broke up at the very least.

So maybe Clark could see why Conner and Lex had thought this was such a strange and inappropriate suggestion.

Clark went to pull away and get out of bed, trying to be careful not to wake Lex. He wasn’t sure why he was so convinced that Lex would react badly if he woke up and saw Clark _right there_ , but he was going to trust his gut on this one. Because while, some slight awkwardness aside, Clark was handling it pretty okay, Clark also wasn’t the one known to break out the lasers just because his arch-nemesis asked him a question he didn’t like. Unfortunately, Lex wasn’t as deeply asleep as Clark might have hoped because a soon as Clark started to move, Lex’s eyes flew open. (And Clark had been totally right, he _could_ count the lines in Lex’s eyes. Not that he would, because it would be weird for him to know that Lex has 316 lines in his left eye and 309 in his right. Um, yeah.)

The play of emotions across Lex’s face as he went from just barely awake to full alertness was fascinating to watch, and not only because Clark had always had this mental image of Lex as the kind of person who could go from zero to fully aware and ready to go in less than a millisecond. The confusion was, while not expected, not in any way unusual, but the expressions bookending it caught Clark by surprise. There was the moment when Lex first opened his eyes, when he smiled at Clark (for sure this time) and looked supremely contented, like waking up with Clark’s face mere inches from his was a good thing. And then there was after Lex had gotten through the confusion and apparently come to a mental answer as to _why_ he was waking up with Clark’s face mere inches from him, when Clark thought Lex looked nothing so much as exasperated. An impression that was cemented when Lex made an annoyed sort of noise and said, “Not this again.”

“Not what again?” Clark asked, certain now he was officially missing something. Lex couldn’t possibly be referring to the two of them waking up in bed together because Clark was sure he would have remembered it if something like that had happened before. (Well, reasonably sure, since amnesia did make its rounds through their group with alarming frequency.) But, at the same time, Clark didn’t know what else Lex _could_ be referring to.

Lex considered Clark with a thoughtful sort of expression before sitting up and, very deliberately, pinching himself. Which would imply that Lex had thought he was dreaming he had woken up in bed with Clark. Which would imply that Lex dreamed he woke up in bed with Clark _a lot_. Which would imply… well, Clark wasn’t sure what that would imply, but it definitely meant something. Something that Clark would very much like to hear more about, please and thank you.                                                    

“Never mind,” Lex said dismissively. “I thought my mother was playing matchmaker again, but obviously not.”

“Umm…” Last Clark checked Lex’s mom was dead. Then again, Jor-El, Lara, and Jonathan Kent were also all dead, and all three of them had been significantly more invasive in Clark’s life since their passing than just messing with his dreams some, so maybe Clark shouldn’t judge. “Okay. Have you tried telling her that you’re straight?” Clark suggested. It had worked on Jor-El’s schemes, after a fashion at any rate. He hadn’t much cared when Clark had told him that he was straight, though whether that was because the Jor-El AI considered humans so far beneath Kryptonians that considerations of gender shouldn’t matter to Clark, or because Jor-El just didn’t believe Clark wasn’t also into guys, Clark wasn’t sure. But when Clark had told him that Lex, Bruce, and Victor were all straight and thereby uninterested in becoming Clark’s consort in Clark’s bid to take over the world (because apparently Jor-El was on that again) and added on that Diana, Oliver, and Arthur were all already married, Jor-El had backed off. Apparently Jor-El wasn’t big on rape, reassuring and, in all honesty a tiny bit surprising, and he _was_ big on monogamy, very surprising given that one of Clark’s first sexual experiences was psychometrically experiencing Jor-El sleeping with Lana’s _married_ great-aunt, Louise.

 “Don’t worry about it,” Lex said, which wasn’t exactly a yes, but it wasn’t exactly a no either. Maybe Lillian didn’t believe Lex was straight either? Or, oh God, what if _Lex’s mom_ was the one that put the idea in Lex’s head that Clark was a girl? Stupid Lillian Luthor; lately the more Clark heard about her, the less he liked her.

While Clark was busy trying not to freak out about his masculinity – Jor-El would have… okay, maybe not Jor-El, but Lara or Kara or one of the Kandorian clones would have mentioned if he was a girl, right? Plus Faora, who was definitely the opposite gender of Clark, had gotten pregnant; that was totally a girl thing! – Lex was going through Clark’s closet, unerringly pulling out Clark’s best clothes and pulling them on, since neither of them had thought to bring a spare set for Lex from his penthouse. By the time Clark was done with his mental reassurances, Lex was completely dressed in slightly too baggy clothes that he somehow managed to make look like a fashion statement, and had fully engaged in his public, politely distant mask. “If you could hand me my cell phone,” said Lex, gesturing to bedside table next to Clark, where Lex had left it the night before, “then I can go ahead and call my driver.”

“You’re leaving?” Clark asked. Maybe it was a stupid question because Lex was only ever supposed to stay until he got big again, but Clark had gotten used to having him around. Not that Clark expected, or even wanted, Lex to hang out in Clark’s apartment for the rest of his life, but this wasn’t a ‘I’ve got things to do and places to be, so I’ll see you around’ kind of leaving. This was a ‘I’m going back to my normal life now and, if you’re lucky, I’ll call on you for a question at my next press conference’ kind of leaving. And after the progress Clark thought had been made in the last 24 hours, that didn’t sit well with him at all.

“The limo should be able to make it here in about ten minutes” – Lex glanced at the clock and grimaced – “make that twenty. Slower than the flight over here, but I don’t want to risk someone noticing Superman leaving my home early in the morning two days in a row,” he said to answer Clark’s question. Clark winced a little in response; he didn’t care what people in general thought about him (well, not too much), but if even just one gossip rag wrote just one sentence of insinuation in just one article, the Fortress AI _would_ read it, and then Jor-El would be right back to demanding that Clark secure the economic power of the House of Luthor for the House of El by making Lex his consort, amongst pointed comments about ‘how important a stable family life is for Kon-El.’ Not that Clark disagreed on the later sentiment, but the only person Clark wanted to get parenting advice from less than Jor-El was Lionel. And maybe those moms from that Toddlers in Tiaras show Lois watched sometimes. “I’ll have your clothes cleaned and give them to Conner to give to you when I see him this weekend,” Lex added after a moment of thought.

“Or you could return them tonight,” Clark suggested, inspiration striking him with a brilliant…ly stupid idea, but his brain didn’t seem interested in stopping his mouth from going for it.

“No, I know it’s Wednesday, but Conner and I discussed it, and we decided it was better to wait until this Friday to have him stay over for the first time. That way Conner has the whole weekend to settle in, rather than just the evening.” Lex said, apparently completely missing what Clark had been trying to get at. Which was understandable, given how very not articulate Clark had been about his suggestion.

“What I meant was, Conner should be back from meeting with the Titans by dinner, and Syfy is having a Warehouse 13 marathon tonight, and since we all enjoyed Eureka so much…” Clark trailed off, his brain finally deciding, a little too late in the game, to tell his mouth to shut up, you sound like an idiot, and didn’t you decide yesterday that you were going to leave this up to Conner?

“Just to be clear,” Lex said after a few seconds of silence, “you’re inviting me to come have dinner with you and Conner tonight, and then to watch TV with the two of you afterwards.” Lex looked quietly shocked, and maybe a bit confused, at Clark’s suggestion, which Clark supposed was still a big improvement on the disgust and/or rage he had been half-expecting.

“Pretty much, yeah. If you want to,” Clark said. The words hung in the air for a long time, as Clark waited for Lex to say _something_. Long enough time that Clark started desperately trying to think of a way to take his offer back without making things even worse. There was the Kiss of Lethe, but that was ethically questionable even if Clark _had_ gotten full control over it. As it was, there was the distinct possibility that Clark would erase a whole lot more of Lex’s memories than he intended to, all of them even, or maybe he wouldn’t erase anything at all. Then Clark would be stuck trying to explain why he had kissed Lex, which would mean either lying, another skill that Clark still hadn’t mastered, or telling the truth, which –

“The TV in the penthouse is a good deal larger than the one you have here,” said Lex, snapping Clark out of his mental flailing. Lex looked utterly casual as he said it, his body language a study in nonchalance, as though he didn’t care what Clark’s answer was one way or the other. And Clark knew, from long years of experience, that that meant Lex _did_ care, a lot.

The grin that overtook Clark’s face felt bigger and more enthusiastic than it had been in a while. “The marathon starts at seven, so we’ll be there by six-thirty,” he said. Sure, Lex wasn’t offering a declaration of undying friendship, or a promise to mend all his ways, or anything over-the-top dramatic like that, but it was a start. And Clark, with copious amounts of help from Conner, could definitely work with that.


End file.
